


Sharing Scars

by asmintasmint, Reluctantbutterfly



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Hate to Love, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7709650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmintasmint/pseuds/asmintasmint, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reluctantbutterfly/pseuds/Reluctantbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Recall had been no surprise to McCree. While he vaguely wondered about the reactions of his old colleagues- assuming they were all still kicking- being summoned back to the base in Gibraltar felt like the natural progression of things for him. </p>
<p>(What doesn't feel natural, however, is seeing dead men come back to life, or seeing others forgive their killers. McCree doesn't trust Hanzo even if Genji does- but unfortunately, now that he's part of Overwatch, there's no possible way to avoid him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in a long time, please be gentle.  
> So much love to my co-author [asmintasmint](http://http://archiveofourown.org/users/asmintasmint/)

The Recall had been no surprise to McCree. While he vaguely wondered about the reactions of his old colleagues- assuming they were all still kicking- being summoned back to the base in Gibraltar felt like the natural progression of things for him. Even years before, when he had slipped away as the tension between Overwatch and Blackwatch was becoming too much to bear, he'd had the feeling that he'd wind up coming back one day. 

He could almost hear the rough voice of Commander Reyes, hissing out from between gritted teeth- " _You've had your fun, cowboy, now it's time to get back to work_." 

Jesse readjusts his hat roughly, as if it could shake the voices of dead men out of his head. Sitting on his old bed in the base gave him the unsettling feeling of being both out of place and exactly where he belonged. Still, it wouldn't do to sit in here all day indulging the ghosts of his past. He'd done as much settling in as he could by kicking his abused old suitcase under his bed.

"Right," he mutters, pushing himself off of the creaking mattress. "Time to face the music."

As soon as his door slides open, he’s greeted by Lena Oxton, excitedly bouncing on her heels. At the sight of him she flings her arms open and grins expectantly.

"Jesse!" she squeaks as he leans down to meet her in a slightly crushing hug. "Winston told me that you were here! I knew you'd come, I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away. C'mon, lemme look at ya."

Lena pulls back, putting her hands on her hips and dramatically looking him up and down. She lets out a small chuckle. 

"I see you're still doin' the cowboy thing, luv."  

McCree tips his hat, grinning down at her. "'Til the day I die, darlin'. And nice to see you, too.'"

The smaller woman swipes at his arm, but it has no bite in it. "No dying allowed," she warns, still unable to keep a smile off of her face. She nods her head in the direction of the hallway. "Winston wants to get you up to speed."

"Ah, straight to business, is it?" McCree teases, allowing himself to be led forwards, watching Lena's brown hair bobbing with every step she takes.  

"Hardly," Lena sighs heavily. "We're still _incognito_. Winston's not let me do anything fun yet. We can expect to be doing a fat lot of _nothing_ until everybody's here and we've got some real firepower. As soon as the world knows we're up and running again-" 

"Shit's gonna hit the fan big time?" he finishes for her as they stop outside a door. 

Lena slumps against the door frame and pulls a pained face. "It won't be pretty, unless we can prove we're gonna do a lot of good- and even then they might try and shut us down."  

There’s a sudden seriousness on Lena's face that seems out of place for her as she fiddles with her hands.

She tilts her head towards the door. "Big guy's in there." Lena catches his mechanical arm just as he’s about to head in. "Look, Jesse. Just- Just don't be mad." 

With that she turns to walk away. 

"Mad about what?" he calls after her, but she just shakes her head and keeps walking. "Mad about _what_ ," Jesse mutters to himself, pushing the button on the door. 

It slides open with a hiss to reveal three figures hunched over a desk full of papers and datapads. Winston leans up and adjusts his glasses, huffing out a nervous laugh. 

“Ah, Agent McCree, you remember Dr Ziegler,” he says as he gestures to the blonde woman on his right. Angela Ziegler hasn’t aged a day in the years since he’s seen her, so of course he recognizes her. She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and gives him a small smile.

McCree nods towards her. “Of course, doc, good to see ya.” He follows her nervous glance down to the man sat between herself and Winston at the desk. His face was obscured by a mask and visor, making his face appear completely blank. “And this must be one of the new fellas?” Jesses prompts.

“Well, um. Yes and no.” Winston sighs, placing a large hand on the masked man’s shoulder. “This is Soldier: 76-”

"Oh right, the vigilante dude, yeah, I saw you on the news, pretty cool stuff-" McCree begins, relaxing.  

"Or as you knew him, Jack Morrison." Winston finishes. 

McCree freezes.

"Hello, Jesse," the man, Jack, says, his gruff voice all too familiar.

"What the fuck." McCree manages, sounding slightly choked. "What the _fuck_." 


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting across from Soldier: 76 still feels the same as sitting across from Morrison always had- like he was a misbehaving teenager hauled up in front of a disappointed teacher for a scolding. This time, however, he’s glad for the chair that Angela had forced him into before excusing herself. At least it hides the angry shake in his leg.  

"' _Dear Jesse_ '," McCree begins sarcastically, pretending to write on his metal hand, "' _Guess who ain't dead? Love, Morrison._ ' How hard _exactly_ would that have been?!"  

A ragged sigh comes from behind the visor. "I could remind you that you were long gone by the time of the explosion," 76 says.  

"Came back for your funeral," McCree counters sharply. "Real classy affair, shame you missed it."  

He'd cried, too, privately. He wasn't going to mention that. McCree had always been an oddity in Blackwatch, being far too friendly with Overwatch members. Losing Reyes and Morrison at the same time had hit him pretty hard.  

"I needed to disappear." Soldier: 76 runs a gloved hand through his grey hair. "I gave the best years of my life to this organization-"  

"Raise you, the best years of your life and _an arm._ " Jesse waves his robotic hand at the man behind the desk.  

"-And all I got was a knife in my back from the people I was supposed to be able to trust." 76 finishes his sentence as if Jesse hadn’t spoken at all. (That feels the same as before, too. If Jesse hasn't been told that Soldier: 76 and Morrison were one and the same, he's certain the feeling of déjà vu would have left him feeling off kilter for weeks.)

"You should put that on a fuckin' t-shirt." McCree sighs, leaning back in his chair and putting a cigar between his teeth. He knows he’s being childish, now, but imagining Jack running around playing vigilante while his friends mourned him gives him a heavy, sick feeling in his gut.  

" _Agent McCree is reminded that there is no smoking inside the facility except at the designated smoking areas,_ " the smooth voice of Athena comes from a monitor on the desk, her symbol flashing on the screen.   

Winston gives an awkward cough as McCree fumbles with his lighter. "I think we can probably make an exception, uh, just this once." He shifts as smoke filled the air in front of McCree's face. "We were all shocked by Morrison's- ah, Soldier: 76's return." He adds gently.   

"Any other dead people come crawlin' out of the woodwork I should know about?" McCree asks slowly, keeping his eyes on Winston's face for any sign of a lie.  

The name _Reyes_ hangs in the air, unsaid.  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see 76's hands clench on the desk.   

"We have no reason to believe," Winston begins carefully, "That anyone else made it out of the explosion at Headquarters."  

McCree nods, feeling a little defeated. "Well, it was worth a shot." He takes a moment to study the blank visor of 76. "Jack, you're still an asshole. But... I'm glad you ain't a dead asshole."  

There’s a moment of silence between the two men, and then it passes, tension seeming to slip from the room.  

"Thank you, Jesse, I think. That will be all."  

McCree pushes himself up off the chair with a sigh and makes to leave the room. "Yeah, yeah, this is all gettin' a bit heavy for me anyway."  

"Uh, McCree, on your way out could you-" He turns to see Winston looking more than a little embarrassed. "Could you possibly send in Reinhardt?"  

"Oh wow," Jesse huffs, "Without the hammer, I suppose?"  

"Preferably without the hammer," 76 nods weakly.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for kudos and comments!   
> Chapters will get a bit longer so they may take a little while between updates.  
> Also some things will be coming up which are messing with canon a little bit (blind!76, hanzo with prosthesis and some timeline tinkering).

The next few days pass easily enough for McCree. He sits through an awkward physical exam with Mercy, passing with only the usual, minor lecture about taking better care of himself and a gentle but firm reminder that smoking kills people. 

He lets Torbjörn tinker with his prosthetic, adjusting some minor faults that turn out to be caused by some cigar ash being stuck in the joints. Torbjörn makes Jesse promise to stop putting cigars out in his metal hand, no matter how cool it looks. (He means it when he says it, but really, some habits are probably too hard to break. )

Fareeha is alarmingly tall now. McCree has to subtly get close to her to reassure himself that he still has the edge on her, height-wise. He wants to tell her that she's the spitting image of her mother, but he isn't sure how she'd take that.   

Nobody talks about Morrison, which makes Jesse feel itchy. He can't stand the tension, how everyone seems to be tiptoeing around the subject. Better to just rip the band-aid off.  

"So, Morrison being alive, that's fucked up," he announces conversationally at dinner one evening, flicking his food around his plate.  

Every head turns to look at him. Lena's mouth hangs open, forkful of Reinhardt's confusing German cooking still halfway to her face.  

"Feel better now you said that?" The low rumble of 76's voice comes from across the table, voice sarcastic. Jack doesn't have his mask on when he eats. They don't talk about the old scars, or how Jack's eyes remain cloudy and unfocused without the visor.  

A sputter from Lena, a chuckle from Angela, and soon the entire room is laughing. It's not a forced laughter- it's one of relief, one of released tensions. The air finally feels clear.  

Jesse hits his metal arm against the table, struggling to breathe through the sudden outburst of laughter. "Yes, dammit, it needed to be said!" He pushes back against the table and lets out a groan. "Now I feel like I can breathe again."  

"It is better out now," Reinhardt nods diplomatically, "Before all the young ones are here. We do not need to be confusing them with our old squabbling."  

"So this is it for the Recall, then?" McCree prompts. "New guys from here on out?"  

"Mei-Ling will be joining us later in the week. Oh, and Genji is also returning," Angela smiles. "He has been in contact, and is aware of the situation with 76. But he has been delayed."  

McCree can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face as he sits up straighter. He and Genji had always been close, neither of them exactly fitting in with the old Overwatch. "Hell yes. I've been wonderin' where my favorite ninja was. What's holdin' him up?"  

"Somefin' in Hanamura," Lena explains, still shovelling food in her mouth. Jesse isn’t quite sure where all that food goes; she’s still as skinny as a twig. "Goin' to see his brother."  

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Angela reminds Lena brightly as she collects empty plates, in a tone that is all sweetness with only a slight threatening hint behind it. Lena shuts her mouth and swallows, but two seconds later she's back to chewing with her mouth open. 

Jesse leans back in his chair and lets out a low whistle, smiling fondly. "He's finally takin' that asshole out, huh? That's a showdown I'd like a front-row seat to."  

"Wrong, my friend." McCree tilts slightly when a massive hand is laid on his shoulder. Reinhardt looks down on him with a warm smile, sounding very moved. "Genji has gone to reach out his hand in forgiveness to his brother."  

" _... Why? _ " McCree manages finally, confusion clear in his face.

A clicking noise comes from across the table as 76 slots his mask and visor back into place.  

"After Winston initiated the recall, Genji expressed interest in recruiting his brother to the cause," Morrison states, sounding flat- like he was reading a mission briefing.  

"And you told him that was nuts, right?" McCree asks, laughing nervously. "I mean, what's he been smokin' up in Nepal? His brother _ killed him _ !"   

"In case it has escaped your notice, Jesse, Genji is still very much alive." Soldier: 76 stands, clearing his plate and glaring down at McCree. Or, what he could assume was glaring, as it’s hard to tell with the visor back in place. "He will be arriving tomorrow,  _ with his brother _ , and I expect you to remain professional."  

A slightly awkward silence falls over the table as 76 walks out and everyone suddenly becomes very interested in their plates.  

"And we're all jus' fine with this then?" McCree asks, gesturing vaguely at the rest of the table. "We're all just gonna be sittin' here tomorrow like ' _ Pass the salt, Shimada, an' try not to murder your brother again while you're at it? _ '"  

Lena gives an irritated huff. "It's Genji's decision. We're all just tryin' to be supportive, luv."  

Jesse throws his arms up in mock surrender. "Hey, I love the guy, but just because he's found inner peace or religion or whatever don't mean his brother's not the same asshole who left him eatin' through a straw for months."  

McCree is no stranger to atoning for past sins- he's done enough wrong to ensure he'd be atoning for the rest of his days- but he'd seen Genji in the early days after what his brother did. He still remembers the hushed voices questioning if it would be kinder to let the man die to end his suffering. 

Some things were beyond forgiving.  

"Genji would not bring Hanzo here if he thought he was a danger to anyone," Winston finally speaks up from his position at the head of the table, jolting McCree out of his thoughts. "Genji is certain he will be a valuable asset to us."  

"So that means,  _ be nice. _ " Lena jabs her fork in McCree's direction.  

McCree throws her one of his most charming smiles as he stands, putting his hat back on his head and picking his plate up. "When am I ever not nice, darlin'?"  

Lena just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.  


End file.
